A Love In Black And White Challenges
by Thalanee
Summary: Stories inspired by the annual challenges of the lj-commmunity "Love Is Black And White", a JazzxProwl community. Read and enjoy! New: Jazz is going to show Prowl the various meanings of a kiss.
1. Chapter 1

I have no excuse for this other than that I must have temporarily taken leave of my senses…

Meeting the Creator

Author: Thalanee

Prompt: Week One, 8: Surprising Origin

Verse: AU Bayverse

Word Count: ca 800 words

Warnings: Complete and utter crack! (seriously this is the craziest thing I've ever written)

Rating: pg13

Other Characters: mention of… I won't tell, that would spoil the surprise…

Summary: When Jazz asked Prowl about his creators he'd never anticipated _that_ answer! How is his poor processor supposed to cope with the craziness of it?

Author's Notes: If there was ever any doubt that my muses are twisted little things, this story removes it completely! Kill me now…

And yes, my movieverseProwl, once on Earth is stuck with a Russian accent. For reasons, see my fic "Sparkles".

XXXXX

"So when am Ah gonna meet yar creators?"

The mech who was being addressed raised his helm from the datapad and regarded his silver lover with his usual steady golden gaze, the white helm with his ruby chevron cocked to the side. "Excuse me?" he answered, his light Russian accent still noticeable.

"Yar creator. Ya said one of them is still alive, so Ah presume Ah'm gonna meet him soon, considering we're about ta finally bond." The silver mech could hardly contain his excitement at the thought of finally being bonded to Prowl like he had promised the Praxian before leaving in search of the Allspark.

Only thanks to a combination of incredible luck on Jazz's part, Ratchet's medical skills and the presence of a shard of the Allspark the Solstice was still alive, or rather alive again, just in time for Prowl's arrival on Earth. The black and white hadn't taken the news well to say the least.

When he had finally been able to wrap his mind around the concept that his love had returned from the deactivated (after recovering from a rather spectacular crash of his logic circuits and battle computer) Prowl had clung to Jazz desperately, afraid the saboteur might vanish if he let him out of his sight. As upset as Prowl was it had taken Jazz a while to calm the tactician down.

Prowl was still being unusually affectionate in the open, not that Jazz minded at all. Having a lap full of purring Praxian was one of his favourite perks in life. Once Prowl was comfortable enough, Jazz had taken the opportunity to drag the tactician away for some alone time on a beautiful tropical island and proposed to him once again.

Needless to say Prowl had said yes and once their intended bonding had been announced everyone on the base, Transformer or human, had thrown themselves into the preparations with relish. There was actually little to do for Jazz and Prowl but lean back and watch as Prime prepared himself for the bonding ceremony he would perform, while Sideswipe had taken over planning the celebrations which would culminate in the greatest party to date.

The only part left to the two was to decide who would give them away in the ceremony. It was then that the doorwinger currently sitting in his lap had revealed that one of his creators was still alive.

"My creator is the one to give me away in the ceremony, yes, but I do not understand. You speak as if you have never met my creator before." Prowl sounded genuinely confused.

"That's because Ah haven't, Sparkles," Jazz answered, poking Prowl's noseplating. "Ah thought ya creators were deactivated. There was nothing in ya files and ya never talked about them."

The tactician frowned. "While it is true that my sire died in the destruction of Praxus, my carrier is still very much alive." Doorwings twitching, the SIC continued to regard Jazz quizzically. "And Jazz, you already know my carrier." He pointed out. "You have spoken to him on numerous occasions and you do seem to get along well."

Stumped, the Solstice sputtered. "If so, Ah never knew he was yar creator! Why didn't ya tell me?"

"I honestly thought you knew. Besides when I introduced you to him, I told you he is my only remaining family."

Jazz stared.

How could he not.

After all he knew exactly whom Prowl was talking about.

_Him?_

His love was right, they got along nicely. The bot in question was well liked by everyone in the crew, he was happy, easy going and open, Prowl's opposite in a way. He was… and Prowl was…it couldn't be… the difference in age… but then he realized he didn't know how old the mech in question was… it had to be a joke… but this was Prowl he was thinking about, he would never joke about something like that… but that meant it was true… and that meant…

Jazz never realized that there were sparks coming from his helm or heard Prowl call his name as he suffered from the most spectacular crash in the history of Cybertron.

Who wouldn't after being told, that Prowl's carrier was Bluestreak?

Probably To Be Continued

Notes: … maybe there's going to be more.


	2. Chapter 2

I had to write this once I read all the comments… even if it's now in the middle of the night and I'm going to be dead tired tomorrow…

101 Creative Ways To Pair Bots Up

Author: Thalanee

Verse: AU Movieverse

Prompt: First Week, 7: Matchmaking

Word Count: 900-1000 words

Rating: pg13

Warning: more complete and utter crack, mentions of interfacing in interesting locations

Summary: Jazz is not the only bot unaware of the identity of Prowl's carrier. Also there are things that suddenly make a strange kind of sense…

Author's Notes: The bunny thrived on all the encouragement… also I'm officially crazy and on a sugar-rush XD

There's more to come, but the drabbles won't be in chronological order, more as the bunnies bite.

XXXXX

"Ah've had a thought." The silver Solstice announced out of the blue.

"I thought I smelled something burning." His soon-to-be-bondmate's reply was somewhat acerbic, as he focused his attention on the saboteur, ignoring the music playing in the background.

Jazz sighed dramatically. "You're never gonna let me live this down, are ya?" A woeful look was directed at the tactician who had not completely recovered from the shock of Jazz "pulling a Prowl" as Ratchet had termed it, and hence was wrapped around the saboteur in whose lap he sat.

"Let us just say that at this moment in time I am disinclined to do so." He teased back anyway, wings twitching and arms tightening around the saboteur.

"Well, ya gotta admit, that was a real shocker ya presented there." Jazz helpfully pointed out to distract Prowl. His attempts got the desired effect when Prowl scowled and poked him in the rip plating.

"I told you already, I thought you knew." The tactician huffed.

"Which brings meh back ta ma original topic." Jazz paused for a short while, before continuing with a wicked grin on his face. "If ah didn't know, does that mean Sunny don't know either?" He sounded positively gleeful at the prospect.

Prowl blinked in surprise, actually taking a few moments to consider. If Jazz hadn't noticed, then how could Sunstreaker have? Then again the artist was more observant than bots gave him credit for. "I do not know. It is quite possible that he is at this moment unaware of the nature of my connection to Bluestreak. There is a high probability that he has misunderstood just like you did." Though it was really beyond Prowl how bots could misunderstand. The way Bluestreak doted on his creation and adored Prowl was so obvious. To Prowl anyway…

The grin on Jazz's face took on a fiendish quality. "Can Ah have a picture of tha look on his face when he realizes that if he's gonna hook up with Blue permanently he's gonna be yor step-dad?" he purred, absently stroking the gorgeous doorwings in his reach.

"My thoughts exactly." A smug little smile appeared on the black and white's face. "We can add it to his blackmail file. Besides as Bluestreak's sole remaining relative it behooves me to issue the traditional threats of painful consequences should any harm befall Bluestreak from his side."

"Ah like the way ya think, Sparkles." The saboteur grinned like something you wouldn't want to meet in a dark place (or any place really). "Of course ya realize it makes Siders your doting uncle, right?"

Prowl couldn't suppress the twitch that ran through his whole body at the thought. He dreaded to think what the base's prankster would come up with, once he found out. "Please do not remind me. I will deal with this when the time comes. Also Ratchet would be less than pleased to see us in his domain so soon after our last visit."

Jazz didn't hide the wince at the reminder of his latest stint into medbay. After waking up he had been greeted with the obligatory wrench to the helm and one of Ratchet's more spectacular lectures to date. The medic had not taken well to the pairs refusal to tell him what caused Jazz of all bots to crash. "Remind me ta do something nice for tha Hatchet very soon. Think ah could get mah servo on some of the high grade ya confiscated?"

A flat stare was all the answer Jazz got from the SIC.

"Alright, Ah'll think of something else." He changed the topic, returning to the previous subject. "Seriously though, what do we do if Sunny freaks out?"

"There is no need to worry about that, I already have several contingency plans set up." At Jazz's questioning look Prowl elaborated. "They all involve close proximity between the two of them, with no distractions from any other bots in a private place. For a while I contemplated cuffing them to each other, but I think I will stick to the tried and true plans my carrier taught me by using them on us."

The silver mech chuckled, then paused as the last part of Prowl's explanation registered. "What do ya mean ´used on us´?"

One of Prowl's optic ridges rose, while the tactician pressed closer to Jazz than before, wrapping his arms around Jazz neck, before answering his voice dropped to a low, sultry purr. "You do remember the time when we both were in denial about our feelings for each other. The issue was resolved during a long stint in a remote, escape proof cell in the brig in the Iacon Autobot Base, as I recall."

"Yeah…" Jazz grin turned blissful at the memories Prowl's response and actions evoked. Then the true meaning of his love's words sank in… "Wait a moment, ya wanna tell me it was Blue who locked us in that cell and only let us out once we interfaced each other into oblivion?" Somehow he managed to convey the impression of comically widening optics even with his visor.

Prowl had t fight to keep from laughing. "…Yes."

Jazz had no such compunctions and proceeded to laugh himself silly, the previously bizarre quality of the thought didn't bother him anymore. "Heh, well, least Ah know where ya got your diabolical processors from." Jazz directed a leer at Prowl. "Not that Ah'm complaining, that were some fantastic overloads there." Another idea occurred to him, a thought to tempting to ignore. "Mind returning the favour, if Sunny freaks?" he drawled.

"Indeed not." Smirking smugly, Prowl pulled out a key card. "What did you think I acquired the master key of the base's storage closets for?"

Probably To Be Continued (as the bunnies bite)


	3. Chapter 3

One Plus One Makes Three

Author: Thalanee

Prompt: Soon their duet will become a trio

Verse: AU-Movieverse

Word count: ca 3000 words

Rating: pg13

Warnings: mech-pregnancy

Disclaimer: I only wish they are mine… if they were do you really think Jazz would have died? Similarities to other fics are not intentional (thought I'd add this since there are a lot of these fics around)

Summary: Prowl has a surprise for Jazz

Author's Notes: Short but fluffy… I know it's been done to the death, but I just couldn't resist. And I know Prowl's not acting his usual self, but then this is an unusual situation.

XXXXX

There was a sick feeling in his tanks.

It was so bad, the famously stoic Second In Command of the Autobot army, genius tactician, former enforcer of Praxus, the most unflappable and dependable of them all, just couldn't concentrate on his work.

He'd had a queasy feeling in his tanks for the past few days, but never before had he felt as nauseous as he did this morning. Focusing on the datapad in his white hands the tactician tried again to read the report it held. That particular line he'd read five times already, yet he couldn't for the life of him remember what it said.

Fingers clenching on the pad when another wave of nausea hit him, Prowl exhaled shakily. After a few steady breaths the feeling had somewhat lessened, though it seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat at his desk.

When the next wave hit, it was all he could do to keep up the tight hold he had on the bond to Jazz, unwilling to bother the saboteur with something that would pass very soon. Besides Jazz wasn't even here, he was away on a mission and wouldn't return for several days yet.

The SIC had not been feeling himself for some days now. At first it was little things like drifting off while reading a report, but soon he found it difficult to control his temper (he'd even snapped at poor Optimus, but despite apologizing right after it happened, he still felt guilty about that) or reign in his emotions in general, something the self-controlled tactician deeply resented.

Feeling oddly frustrated the tactician actually threw the datapad at the door, the same moment it opened and a familiar silver form stepped through.

"Whoa," he exclaimed and ducked under the pad, which landed in the hallway with a mighty clatter. "What's up with you, nephew?" Sideswipe rolled closer on his wheeled pedes and leaned against the desk, careful not to disrupt the neat stacks of datapads on it. He'd spontaneously decided to barge in on his only and favourite nephew (the swordsmech still had to suppress manic giggles when he remembered just how Bluestreak had let them all know Prowl was his sparkling).

"I don't know." Prowl's answer sounded uncharacteristically small and forlorn considering it was Prowl who had spoken, something which stoked Sideswipe's strong protective instinct, which now included Prowl. If he was perfectly honest it always had…

The tactician nearly cursed, when a new wave of nausea picked that exact moment to hit him. He actually doubled over at the pain in his abdomen, hissing. On the edge of his awareness he heard the silver mech cursing, but most of his attention was in the sick feeling rising in the back of his throat, nearly making him gag.

He knew that feeling. Desperately reaching for the waste bin, he was about to panic when one silver servo shoved said waste bin in front of him just in time for Prowl to purge into it instead of on the floor.

Whimpering from the burning feeling of half processed energon going where it really shouldn't and just wasn't meant to go, he felt absolutely mortified that he did so in front of an audience, especially Sideswipe. He still hadn't gotten used to seeing Sideswipe as his uncle, he was still the troublemaker and always would be.

The feel of a servo soothingly rubbing his back between his violently twitching door-panels only made it worse somehow and to his ever growing embarrassment Prowl couldn't keep the tears from falling, not that he was in any shape to try. Sideswipe's comforting murmurs made him wish that Jazz was on base, not away on a stupid mission, completely out of reach, with their bond blocked as far as possible so the saboteur would not be distracted.

How he wanted Jazz to be here!

Openly sobbing now, he didn't resist when Sideswipe hugged him. "What's wrong with me?"

"I don't know, but let's go see the Hatchet so he can have a look alright?" Keeping an arm around the sniffling tactician, the swordsmech gently guided him out of the door and through the hallways, painstakingly taking care that they avoided any of the other bots or humans who were out and about in the corridors of the NEST base. Out in the open he appeared calm and collected, but anyone taking a closer look would have been careful around the warrior.

His cables were taut, movements perfectly calculated, ready to spring into action any moment to defend the black and white mech at his side. If anyone had so much as made a movement to scratch the police cruiser's paint, he would have flown into a protective rage, even more so than usual.

Upon reaching medbay, Sideswipe made sure there was no one else but Ratchet around. The chartreuse mech was bent over a worktable, hammering away at spare parts meant for the recently arrived mech lovingly dubbed walking explosion hazard by the medic, otherwise known as Wheeljack.

Hearing the mechs enter and looking up to see a quietly crying Prowl clinging to a scowling Sideswipe, he shot up out of his seat opening his mouth to berate the silver twin for whatever he had done this time, only to have Sideswipe _growl_ at him.

"Alright, what happened?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, fix it!" Sideswipe demanded, feeling helpless in the face of a foe he didn't know how to defeat. If there was a Decepticon attacking he knew exactly what to do, but with an illness there was no physical source he could fight. It made him nervous.

"Alright, Prowl, lie down on that berth and tell me what your symptoms are." The medic was uncharacteristically gentle, since this was the second time he saw the tactician cry in the whole time they had known each other, since Prowl was a sparkling in fact. The only other time was when Prowl had been told about Jazz's death.

Prowl complied without protest, something else that worried the medic. Usually Prowl would grab any excuse to leave medbay, he would physically fight having to lie down and argue every step along the way. Never mind that the way the stubborn tactician wouldn't enter the medbay of his own free will missing a doorwing or other limb.

"I have trouble controlling my emotional responses. For about a week now I felt sick every morning, which would usually pass a couple of hours later, but today I had to purge." Prowl did his best to appear his usual stoic self, but none of the two others were fooled. Still they pretended not to notice so Prowl would feel more comfortable.

Ratchet frowned, there was a diagnosis that had come to mind as soon as he heard Prowl describe his symptoms, but he shoved it to the back of his mind. Not that it was impossible, but still…

Yet when his normal scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, he reluctantly pulled out a scanner he hadn't had to use in a very long time, longer than he cared to remember actually. When the scanner showed the results, Ratchet did what he always did when surprised.

He cursed.

"Slag me to the pit, back up and down again." Both tactician and swordsmech eyed him warily.

"Ratchet?" The cruisers tone was hesitant almost to the point of fearful. If it made Ratchet curse like that, it had to be bad, didn't it?

"You and Jazz just had to do this to me! You couldn't have told me first, now, you just had to go ahead and do it anyway!" Ratchet knew they probably hadn't done this on purpose, but he wouldn't let them get away with it anyway!

"What are you talking about, Hatchet?" Sideswipe interjected, sounding as confused as Prowl looked.

"I'm talking about something that hasn't happened in hundreds of vorns. Prowl," he pointed at the SIC triumphantly, "You are carrying."

Total silence descended onto Ratchet's medbay. Until…

"WHAT?" Prowl shrieked. "But how..? That's impossible!"

"Yes, you are." Grinning evilly the medic seemed to enjoy the spectacle of a flustered prowl way too much. Sideswipe was still busy gaping. "As for how, I'm sure I don't need to explain that to you, considering what I saw in the wash racks just before Jazz left."

Prowl cringed. Sideswipe stared. Ratchet cackled.

"And it's not impossible as you well know. Just highly unlikely if you're not actively trying, but not impossible." Watching as Prowl raised a hand to his chassis and laid it where the sparkling was Ratchet explained further.

"You'll be carrying for about an Earth year and I will pull you off battle duty effective immediately. There's no way I'll risk you and the sparkling like that." Fierce protectiveness radiated from Prowl at those words. Seemed like Prowl wouldn't argue this time, something the medic appreciated. "I'll give you medical grade energon you should drink along with the usual, it should help against the sickness and has all the nutrients you need. As you know you'll get the mood swings, cravings and slight aches in your joints. I'll give you something to read so you can prepare yourself for the birth."

He continued in this manner, noting the way Sideswipe had positioned himself between Prowl and the door. Finishing his lecture he handed Prowl the first cube of a greenish-blue glowing medical grade energon.

Thanking the medic a still slightly shell-shocked Prowl left medbay with Sideswipe in tow. The medic's last comment made him feel strangely content with the world at large. "Oh, by the way, congratulations, Prowl!"

XXXXX

"My little sparkling is all grown up!" Bluestreak exclaimed, hugging the life out of Prowl. "I remember, it's like yesterday, when you were born and you were all huge golden optics and little white wings and you were so smart always trying to figure things out. By sticking them in your mouth and nibbling at them and you were so cute doing that, and you were crawling around and walking so soon, you were the fastest little sparkling and when you started to talk you never stopped asking questions and now you're all grown up and having a sparkling of your own and I'm so proud of you!"

His carrier's enthusiasm was as great as always. Bluestreak had been ecstatic when Prowl had told him he's be a grand-creator soon and had been rambling for a while now, something Prowl found very soothing. It reminded him of the times when an adoring Bluestreak had talked to his little creation to comfort him or praise him. It meant family, safety.

"Thank you." His hand was resting on his chassis right over his sparkling. "But how am I going to tell Jazz? We wanted a family, but not so soon. The war has not ended yet! What if Jazz doesn't want a sparkling right now?" The thought of Jazz rejecting the sparkling made Prowl quiver. He was aware he wasn't thinking very clearly right now, also that this fear was most likely unfounded, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Aw, it will be alright." Bluestreak pressed a gentle kiss to his creation's red chevron. "This is Jazz we're talking about here. He'll be as ecstatic as your sire was when I told him about you, and he'll help you through your carrying cycle, furnish the little one's room with you, argue about what you're going to name the little one, you'll design the frame and care for the little one. Don't you worry, you're both going to be great creators!"

As Bluestreak rambled on, Prowl resolved to tell Jazz as soon as he was back and out of the obligatory post-mission meeting with Optimus right after his return. He just hoped his carrier was right.

Especially when he realized he could _feel_ the little spark right next to his own.

XXXXX

The indomitable SIC had never felt so nervous before.

Jazz was finally back from his mission, unharmed and in a good mood. It had eveidently gone well and right now Jazz was giving a report to Optimus Prime, himself and the ever present Ironhide. Not that Prowl was capable of paying any attention to what the saboteur was talking about. He was too busy holding on to every ounce of courage for what was about to come.

Thanking Primus that the strange energon Ratchet had given him prevented him from feeling sick again, Prowl approached the saboteur once the meeting was over, and Optimus and Ironhide had retreated to the far end of the room, where unbeknownst to Prowl they were keeping an optic on the two lovers having been forewarned by Ratchet that there might be trouble.

"Hey Sparkles!" the silver mech exclaimed happily, bouncing over to embrace the tactician and softly nuzzle his helmet with his own. Grateful Prowl returned the embrace and looped his arms around Jazz neck, reveling in the feeling of being held, the pulse and warmth of Jazz's spark soothing his frayed nerves.

"I missed you." He sighed. "That was too long."

"I've only been gone for two weeks," the silver Solstice pointed out, "we've been separated for longer." He chuckled, that was usually Prowl's standard response. "Why's it feel like we switched roles?"

Prowl's lips curved in a small smile. "Maybe we should switch roles for a while just to see the other's reactions." He suggested impishly.

"Ya've been spendin' time with Sideswipe much? He's beginning to rub off on ya, not that I mind. I love ya diabolical processors at work, but we should give the bots some time for the shock of ya last prank ta wear of." The saboteur had very much enjoyed the way his Prowl had turned the tables against the twins a few months ago, just before their bonding. It had made for some highly entertaining blackmail material…

Prowl squirmed a little, that was his cue. "A propos shock…"

Directing a questioning look at his bondmate, when Prowl hesitated, he encouraged him. "Ya already planning ya next prank?"

"Not as such, no." He paused before continuing, scraping together every last inch of courage he had left. "You remember when we talked about having a family someday?"

"Yeah, why?" Jazz was genuinely puzzled. He could feel his mate's discomfort and reached out to run a servo along a twitching doorwing to calm his mech down.

"Well, it seems that 'someday' is closer than we thought…" He took a deep breath before blurting out: "I'm carrying."

Jazz stiffened and stared.

He wasn't sure he had heard right. Did Prowl say he was carrying? As in carrying Jazz's sparkling? Their sparkling?

Absently Jazz remembered the time shortly after their bonding, when they had talked about the family they someday wished to have once the war was over and it was safe to raise a sparkling. Not on Cybertron, but maybe here on Earth. They both wished for a big, tight knit family, something both had never had. Prowl only had Bluestreak and Jazz only had one sibling.

But that was something they had both agreed would wait until the war was over. Later.

Seemed like later was now…

He stiffened. He made choking noises. And then he fainted.

"Of all the varied reactions I had prepared myself for, that was the most unexpected." Prowl's voice sounded relieved, stressed, angry and amused at the same time. Jazz absently wondered how bots came to think the tactician was emotionless, when nothing could be further from the truth. His emotions were clearly visible to anyone proficient in doorwing-language and audible to anyone with a keen sense for melody.

Well, Jazz wasn't going to complain, since it meant the tactician was his and his alone to court when they first met. And now he was bonded to his beautiful Prowler… who… was carrying…their sparkling.

Jazz shot up from the floor he'd been laid out on, barely avoiding a collision with a smirking Ironhide who'd been bent over him, right past Prime who had been comforting Prowl, to grab the tactician around the middle, lift the smaller up effortlessly and press an audio to the black and white's chestplates right above the spark that was his.

"Jazz, what…?" Prowl began, only to fall quiet, as Jazz's intent drifted over their bond.

Perfectly still the saboteur upped the sensitivity of his audial fins, tuning in onto the melody of Prowl's spark. A melody that was slightly off now, albeit in a wonderful way. It was off, because there was another beat, another melody mixed with Prowl's in perfect tune. It was the sound of their child's spark.

"Hey there, little one." Jazz whispered, still listening to what he instantly declared the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, his tone betraying his awe and wonder, while Prowl gently hugged him, reassured that all was right.

The broadest, happiest grin adorned Jazz face when he could finally bring himself to remove his audios from Prowl's chassis. For a short moment Prowl was afraid his bondmate's face might break.

"A sparkling," Jazz uttered again, to which Prowl answered with a smile. Spinning Prowl around happily he proclaimed with loud laughter: "A sparkling, we're having a sparkling!" before dipping Prowl down and kissing his mate, to which the doorwinger responded eagerly, both not caring about their audience.

Having righted themselves the giddy saboteur practically jumped onto Optimus' chassis, crowing and squealing in joy, the only discernable words being "Prowl" and "sparkling" afterward jumping Ironhide in a similar manner, literally bouncing off the walls and ceiling. The last Optimus and Ironhide saw of them for the rest of that day was Jazz carrying Prowl, who was giggling in an undignified manner, out of the room.

The last they heard of them for the rest of that day was Jazz's declaration over the base's speakers that his and Prowl's duet soon would become a trio.

The End.

Review please! Tell me what you think ^^


	4. Chapter 4

The Fine Art Of Pranking

Author: Thalanee

Prompt: Sneaky/ Turning The Tables

Verse: AU- Movieverse

Word Count: ca 3500 words

Rating: pg13

Warnings: crack; no eating or drinking while reading this, it might be hazardous to your keyboard.

Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine, but they don't belong to me. The pranks belong to (great prank website, check it out!)

Summary: Watch as a doting Uncle Sideswipe teaches his favourite nephew the fine art of pranking, whether said nephew wishes or not. And then watch said nephew as he turns his own teachings against him.

Author's Notes: Because I desperately needed something to laugh about… I'm new to the whole pranking thing (never executed one), so it may not be as elegant or funny as I would like, but I hope it's funny enough ^^

Also, I know I'm late, but still: Happy Birthday Taralynden!

XXXXX

"Remind me why we're here again. " one mech asked, sounding skeptic.

"Because the liaison is being an aft?" his partner in crime responded with a questioning lilt, going over their preparations once again, making sure everything would go according to the plan they had cooked up together in what the first mech had termed a moment of madness.

"For once we are in agreement, yet it is still no reason for what we are about to do," the first mech pointed out. "especially since Galloway always acts like this. It is something I have come to expect from him. Hence I am not particularly bothered by it anymore. Besides continued exposure to him has had a desensitizing effect."

"I know, but this is different." A frown appeared on the silver face. "The little nuisance tried to forbid us to hold the bonding ceremony! He needs to be taught a lesson and I already told you, what we're going to do is not against the rules." The mech sounded unbelievably smug about that.

"Not against the rules yet. Soon it will be." A minute twitch in one doorwing betrayed its owner's amusement.

"If it bothers you so much why don't you outrule it right now?" He was genuinely curious about that.

There was a short pause, before the other answered, appendages twitching. "…Because I have to confess to a sneaking desire to see the look on his face when we are done with him." Diabolical smirk on his face, he couldn't keep his engine from purring. "And you're right, Sideswipe. Galloway needs to be taught not to stick his olfactory appendage where it does not belong."

Grinning madly, Sideswipe regarded the other with a nearly paternal sense of pride. "That's my favourite nephew! So," his voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush, "everything set for our first shared prank?"

"Of course it is. Please remember who it is you are talking to." Now it was his turn to sound smug.

"Yeah, Prowl, I know, master tactician, greatest planner in the whole Autobot army and all that stuff." He teased, rubbing his hands in anticipation, barely able to contain his excitement. "This is gonna be soo good!"

"Sideswipe?"

"Yes, Prowl?"

"Once we are finished this sort of thing will be against the rules." It felt prudent to point this fact out to the resident trouble maker. Though the answer he got told him he might just as well not have bothered.

"Heh, when has that ever stopped me?" The silver swordsmech actually snickered. Prowl just had to fight not to facepalm.

"True. Let us do this before I remember that I am supposed to keep you in check." He finally announced, his mind going back to their impromptu planning session over a few cubes of homebrew highgrade Sideswipe had somehow scrounged up.

_Flashback_

"…_and when there was a pro forma announcement of the upcoming bonding ceremony, Galloway threw a fit, claiming we were not allowed to bond here on Earth without permission of the U.S. authorities, that such a ceremony would be too costly and a pointless waste of resources and other such things." Despite being slightly inebriated, Prowl's speech was still perfectly clear, if not as formal as usual. He had rambled on in a manner eerily reminiscent of his creator for a few minutes now. "He even went so far as to announce that what we were planning to do was sacrilegious, a violation of the laws of nature, something that should be stopped at all costs."_

_Sideswipe gaped. When he had brought a few cubes in order to cheer Prowl up, because he knew that the tactician enjoyed a good cube now and then as much as the next mech, he hadn't known the reason for his morose mood, but been determined to distract the mech he had practically adopted, while his twin was busy calming down a murderous feeling Bluestreak._

_At least now he knew the reason for Prowl's distress and Blue's anger. "But OP didn't listen to that drivel, did he?" _

_Prowl snorted. "Of course he didn't. He had to hold Ironhide back from squishing the human and let Ratchet deal with Galloway."_

_The silver twin winced. Before Ratchet had become a medic he had been among the most sharp-tongued and brilliant senators in the council. He had quit when it had become obvious that the council was corrupt through and through and trained himself to be a medic. But he still kept the skills that had been so useful to him as a senator. In fact they made him an even more formidable medic. "Ouch, now I almost feel sorry for the poor human. I bet when Ratchet was through with him he crept away whimpering."_

"_Don't. And he stalked away cursing. I don't doubt he will continue to try and interfere." Prowl took another sip from his cube. Sideswipe had outdone himself with this particular batch. "We are lucky, Jazz was away on assignment. When he felt what was happening through our bond he was livid with rage. Had he been present not even I would have been able to stop him."_

"_Would have served the human right," Sideswipe announced, before brightening considerably. In answer Prowl leaned back slightly. That was a look he had seen before, and it always spelt trouble, "we should prank him!"_

_Blinking, the SIC decided to make sure he had heard right. "Excuse me? I thought I heard you say we should prank Galloway?"_

"_Yep!" Blue optics shone brightly, and not just because Sideswipe was just as inebriated as Prowl. The tactician actually stopped to consider the idea, even letting his battle computer have a round with the thought. It immediately presented several strangely pleasing options. The idea felt somewhat appealing._

"_Alright." _

_That answer was obviously not what Sideswipe had expected, but he wasn't about to complain either. Rubbing his hands together, he grinned devilishly. "Let's see what we can come up with together."_

_And before they even knew it, both were having the time of their lives going over the wildest ideas they could come up with, in order to get back at Galloway._

_End Flashback_

Looking back Prowl had no idea how Sideswipe had talked him into this, but to his everlasting surprise he was looking forward to it. Galloway wouldn't know what hit him!

XXXXX

Galloway huffed as he made his way through the parking lot to get to his car. His last demands to Optimus Prime to stop the ridiculous "bonding" the bots wanted to hold had gone unheard. Again. Shaking his head the human fumbled for his keys, his job certainly wasn't easy, but someone had to remind these robots just who was in charge here. If only they would listen to him.

When he had first heard about their SIC, who had apparently had a reputation for having a very stoic and logical personality, arriving on Earth he had held high hopes of there finally being someone among the bots with a sense of what was good and reasonable. But he had been seriously disappointed. The black and white bot, who'd had the audacity to take on the guise of a police car, had proved to be just as obstinate as his leader. A shame really, because Galloway had never come across another, who had been capable of out-negotiating him so thoroughly. What an asset he could have been. And now he and the silver one who was supposed to be dead desired to go through with that bonding thing.

They had to be stopped of course. So far there was nothing Galloway could do, seeing as even the misguided humans, led by Will Lennox and Bobby Epps, here on base supported them. It was his job as official liaison to the government though not to give up and persist in his efforts to make these strange beings see sense.

Having reached his car, he put his suitcase and folders in the trunk, absently taking note of his surroundings. The parking lot was nearly full, as it was the middle of the day and the base was full to bursting with human and other activities. Also some of the cars were property of NEST, to be scanned or already having been so for use as an altmode. There were several sports cars, even a silver Solstice like the one the saboteur used as an alt, two trucks, a handful of bikes, even different search and rescue vehicles. Apparently there were also several human youths on base to visit (Samuel Witwicky, Mikaela Banes, Maggie Madsen, Glen Whitmann and Leo Spitz, if he recalled correctly), who had all been involved in Mission City and/or Egypt in some measure.

It was annoying really to have them around, but the bots had insisted and it was one of the concessions that had been made (he'd even been ordered by Defense Secretary Keller to "just leave the kids alone"). The children had all been sort of adopted by one or more bots, something Galloway found deeply disturbing.

Even the Autobots' SIC had developed a strange sort of friendship with Sector 7 agent Seymour Simmons of all people. Said SIC stood at the other end of the parking lot, conversing with Mayor Will Lennox.

Getting seated behind the wheel of his own no nonsense dark grey car, he buckled up and started the engine to drive out of his parking space in reverse gear, he abruptly slammed on the brakes when he saw a flash of silver right behind his car. Looking into the rearview mirror he could see the form of a silver Corvette slowly slide in front of his car. As if he wasn't late enough already.

It took him a moment, seeing as he was slightly used to the sight, to realize that the car, which was now solidly parked so his own car couldn't move an inch, was indeed driverless. It had moved of its own violition.

Which could only mean one thing: one of the Autobots was trying to prank him!

He even knew which one it was, after all there was only one silver Corvette on base: the silver speed demon referred to as Sideswipe who was known as an unrepentant trouble maker, who had already pranked every living being on base at least once. Only the liaison had been exempt. Up until now, it seemed.

Galloway wouldn't stand for it. Already seething in face of this show of disrespect he got out of his car and planted himself in front of the innocent seeming Corvette, waiting for a reaction from the Autobot in disguise. Only there was none. Maybe the bot was simply asleep? Irritated now, Galloway kicked the car in the bumper. Still nothing.

"Hey, wake up and get out of my way! The parking lot is no place to take a nap!" He slammed the hood. "I have to leave and you are in the way. This is no way to treat the liaison of the government who's allowing you and your lot to stay here. It is disrespectful and I won't have that here! Get out of my way!" Even the yelling didn't garner a reaction.

Galloway frowned. If it really was one of the Autobots wouldn't it have transformed by now and yelled back? Surely, it would have, most of them had no manners whatsoever. Snarling he gave the car a push to see if he could move it. It was heavy, but it didn't resist, so he pushed it himself, unwilling to ask one of the soldiers there, out of the way just far enough for him to be able to leave.

Yet when he got back into his car and turned to back out of the parking space, he could see the car sliding back to occupy exactly the same space as before. The human gaped and cursing climbed out of his car once again to get rid of the obstruction he now was convinced was a recalcitrant Autobot. Yet no amount of cursing, threats and orders awarded him any reaction from the vehicle.

He pushed it out of his way once again, and this time waited for a couple of minutes, in case the ground was uneven and the car really was simply a car. But it just sat there innocently, not moving at all. The liaison eyed it suspiciously, this time keeping his eyes on the Corvette the whole time, only turning when he had to climb into his car. When he looked at the silver car again, he cursed wildly.

It was obstructing his pathway yet again, having rolled as soon as his back

On his way out he slammed the door and looked around. The Autobot SIC and the major were still there at the other end of the parking lot, acting as if nothing had happened. Galloway wasn't sure that was really the case. Stomping over to the both of them he muttered curses under his breath, only stopping once he reached them.

"You!" he yelled. "You're the Second In Command of this lot, aren't you?"

Cool golden optics lowered to look at him. The mech didn't even have the courtesy to bend down like he did with the other humans. It was a disgrace. "Yes, I am indeed." The bot's vocal tones were smooth and completely emotionless to Galloway. "How may I be of assistance to you?"

"That silver Corvette over there is one of yours and he's keeping me from driving out of the lot. Get him out of my way!" The human pointed in the direction of his car to make sure the mechanism knew what he was referring to.

Both the major and the Autobot tactician looked into the direction he was indicating, looked back at him, then back at the lot. "You will have to excuse me, but I do not know what you are referring to. It looks as though your car is in no way blocked."

Galloway turned his head so fast, it nearly gave him whiplash. To be sure, the silver Corvette was gone. He was free to go. But he wouldn't be fooled. "If I try that silver Corvette will just block me again. I demand you brig him!"

"Brig whom?" the black and white asked. A choking sound, almost like suppressed laughter, drew his attention to Major Lennox. Only when he looked, the man looked completely undisturbed, just a little curious.

"Sideswipe." He clarified. "That's the silver Corvette's name, isn't it."

"That is indeed Sideswipe's alt mode. Yet I fear that you are sorely mistaken. Sideswipe is currently on duty in the Command Centre and unable to leave without my being alerted."

"Then who is that silver Corvette in the parking lot?" he nearly screamed.

"Excuse me for pointing this out, but I feel it would be prudent of you to check your optical sensors. There is no silver Corvette in this parking lot that I know of."

Seething, the human cursed the obstinate bot in his mind. That he had the audacity to imply… "Then I will have to show you. Follow me." Turning around on his heel, he didn't even check that the two were following. Had he done so, he would have seen Lennox doubled over in silent laughter and Prowl smirking, his doorwings fluttering minutely.

Of course they followed soon, Lennox, because he wanted to know what was going to happen, and Prowl, because he knew what was about to happen. When they reached Galloway's car, the liaison was turning around in circles, looking for the sneaky silver Corvette that had irked him so. But it was nowhere to be seen.

"That's it, pull up the security tapes and watch them, I want that miscreant punished!" Galloway shrieked, rushing off toward the Command/Security Hub, closely followed by Lennox and Prowl, on whose shoulder the soldier had hitched a ride.

The look on Galloway's face when they were greeted by Sideswipe and Ratchet once there, was a memory every bot and human present would treasure forever. Especially when he started shrieking at Sideswipe, accusing him pulling off that prank, only to have Ratchet glower at him and declare that Sideswipe had been there the whole time.

To make the matter even more hilarious, the security tapes did show Galloway repeatedly getting out of his car, to push away whatever hindered him from getting away… only there was nothing to see on tape. Muffled giggles and choked laughs accompanied a thoroughly humiliated Galloway's exit, made more memorable by the unrealistic, clichéd threats of vengeance trailing from him.

XXXXX

Several hours later saw Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Prowl in the twin's room (Jazz was still absent and Blue on patrol), the latter two describing their prank.

"…What Galloway didn't know of course, was that the silver Corvette he saw on the parking lot was simply one of my holoforms, which appear solid to the touch, if provided with enough energy."

Sideswipe giggled. The silver twin had had a lot of trouble keeping down his laughter while watching the proceedings live on the security cameras, simultaneously tampering with the feed and erasing the holoform's picture. He was so good at it, that only Red Alert or Jazz would have noticed, the former wasn't on Earth yet, and the latter was more likely to laugh his aft of first and clap Sides on the back later, than actually punishing him, especially after all the grief Galloway had given Prowl over their upcoming bonding ceremony.

"That sure is a useful thing to have." The silver mech took another swig of his highgrade, toasting his beloved nephew. "Just think of all we could do, combining our talents! We could exchange the medbay doors for old-fashioned saloon doors like in the movies, and what we could do to Cliffjumper and ole Red once he's here!"

Sunstreaker snorted. "See what you've done?" he eyed a suspiciously smug looking tactician. "He's never gonna stop now!"

"Please, Sunstreaker, there's a reason, he's almost never gotten away with anything, and now that I know how he works…" Not needing to finish the sentence Prowl sipped at his own cube, waiting for the effects of his little surprise to kick in. He wasn't quite finished yet…

"That's cruel, Prowl!" the swordsmech whined, while the artist snickered to himself. They bickered back and forth for a while in good nature (Sunstreaker and Prowl were among the mechs who really enjoyed a good snarking match, with each other or Ratchet) until the twins fell asleep. That was the tactician's cue.

XXXXX

Next morning the base awoke to shrill screams of horror, startling Ironhide so badly he shot a hole in the wall of his quarters, barely missing a passing Optimus Prime, making Wheeljack nearly blow up his lab again if not for the quick reflexes of Ratchet.

Soon all those shocks were forgotten though, as everyone was drawn to the source of the screams, namely the twins' quarters. Anyone who cared to look inside saw the golden twin decorated with paintings of Sunflowers and dandelions, giving rise to some new nicknames from his twin, who in turn was covered from crest to wheels with disgustingly cute drawings of little ponies complete with hearts and stars.

Both were staring at their new paintjobs slackjawed, Sunstreaker whimpering in horror and Sideswipe gagging in disgust. That was when they noticed the little post-it note stuck to Sunstreaker's forehead, a personal note from the mysterious culprit.

_Now you know what I am capable of__, if properly motivated._

_Sunstreaker: __It has come to my attention that it is tradition to issue a warning to a bot who is about to enter a relationship with a beloved family member, threatening both bodily harm and unspeakable pain should said bot hurt the family member in any way._

_Please consider this that warning:_

_If you ever hurt my creator in any way__… well I am positive, you can imagine what I would do. _

_Sideswipe: Don't even think about it!_

_Yours sincerely, Prowl._

Both twins stared at the little slip of paper for some time, until Sideswipe, who was feeling an odd sense of pride at the way his sneaky nephew had turned the tables against him suing Sideswipe's own teachings, finally voiced both their thoughts: "Primus, I have created a monster."

To Be Continued

Notes: Funny? Not funny? I don't know, review and tell me ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Revenge is sweet!

Author: Thalanee

Prompt: Do Not Lean On The Doors/You put the fun in dysfunctional/Devil Inside

Verse: AU- Movieverse

Rating: pg13

Warnings: crack! Don't eat or drink while reading this, for the sake of your poor keyboard. Also some suggestive language and Cybertronian curses.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.

Summary: Never, ever piss of a carrying mech!

Author's Notes: For darkeyes17 and moonlightbeam305, so they have something to laugh about! I hope this brightens your days a little and I wish you both the best!

Belongs in the same verse as the other oneshots, meaning Blue and Sunny are a couple, Prowl is Blue's sparkling and the twins have now adopted the tactician. I have to find a name for this universe, but what could I possibly call it?

XXXXX

To any outward observer the perfect peace and quiet pervading the NEST base would have seemed highly desirable and relaxing. To anyone who actually knew what he or she was talking about it was highly disturbing. The base was supposed to be a noisy, chaotic place, bustling with activity, and the occasional sounds of gunfire, explosions and human and Cybertronian curses, music and laughter in general. But there was a good reason for the uncharacteristic silence.

Prowl was… well on the prowl.

Carrying was proving to have an odd effect on the Praxian mech. When the mood swings surprisingly had lessened somewhat and Prowl had some more control over his usually well hidden but still impressive temper, every mech, femme and human on base had been relieved, gladly embracing what they now knew to be the calm before the next storm.

Only none of them, not even those who had known Prowl for a very long time, could have anticipated that the tactician would discover his more playful side. If playful was what you would call it. Truth be told, the previously by the book, rule-hugging, strict SIC of the Autobot army was putting Sideswipe to shame!

Something the adopted uncle had been quite proud of, especially when he witnessed the result of one rather spectacular, if insane, prank that somehow made Wheeljack literally explode everything he touched, be it datapads, controllers, doors or other things, in a puff of smoke (but not much else, it seemed the tactician had gone to great lengths to ensure there would be no permanent damage). The twin also took great delight in reminding bots that it was due to him and their shared prank on Galloway prior to Prowl and Jazz's bonding, that Prowl had gotten into touch with his playful side. Until Prowl turned his attention to him.

No one was quite sure how Prowl had managed to do it, but to the great surprise and hilarity of all bots and humans involved they had one day entered the rec room to find the silver Corvette locked in his alt mode, his insides filled to the brim with confetti. A few hours and long laughs later Ratchet had finally managed to undo the block, but a week later the swordsmech was still randomly spouting confetti all over the base out of his internals and air vents.

In fact the only mechs who had not been pranked so far were Bluestreak and Jazz, who were both enjoying this immensely, Optimus Prime and Ratchet, both of whom knew their time would come sooner or later. Especially considering that Prowl had been conspicuously absent the last couple of days. Hence everyone was doing their best to stay under the radar.

Had they been able to listen in on the following conversation every single one of them would have instantly vacated the surrounding ten mile area. That is, if they hadn't crashed from the sight of _Prowl_ perching on _Jazz'_s desk.

"Jazz, what is that?" A long, slightly clawed finger pointed at the offensive detail.

"What's what, Sparkles?" As innocent as the answer sounded Prowl wasn't fooled at all, he knew his mate to well for that. Jazz had to have something to do with it.

"There is a bumper sticker on my aft. What is it doing there?" It had most certainly not been there, when Prowl went to recharge a few hours ago, the carrying tiring him out. His little sparkling needed the additional energy provided by recharge and refueling. When he had woken up a cursory glance in the mirror had revealed the newest addition to his looks.

"Ya mean tha one next to your tattoo?" The saboteur lowered the datapad he had been fiddling with to have a good look.

"I do not have a tattoo as you very well know." Prowl frowned.

"Yeah, ya have. There's that white writing on your gorgeous black hips sayin' "To Protect and Serve". That's your tattoo." Jazz sounded very smug as he pointed that out. He simply loved the contrast of the white writing on black hips and he could never help looking at it.

"It is not a tattoo and you are avoiding the question. What is the meaning of this sticker and what is it doing on my aft?" How Jazz came up with the idea of calling a decoration on his alt mode a tattoo was still a mystery to Prowl, then again the saboteur's creativity was one of the reasons Prowl loved him so much. But really, a bumper sticker?

"Ya mean the white one with the red circle like thing and the red writing saying "Devil Inside"?" Any human would have instantly recognized the slightly altered logo of a certain computer company. Altering its text to apply to different situations had proved to be quite popular. Jazz certainly found it hilarious.

"Yes, that one." Arms crossed, Prowl stared down at Jazz from his vantage point on the desk with burning golden optics, waiting for the inevitable banter.

"Easy, Ah put it there." Jazz had noticed the way the corners of Prowl's had twitched, signifying that he was enjoying their verbal sparring just as much as he was.

Prowl rolled his optics. "I am aware of that. But why did you do it?"

"Ya said something about how everythin's supposed to be properly labeled, so I got ya this sticker." It sounded very reasonable the way Jazz phrased it.

"I was talking about inventory. And may I ask how labeling me with a term usually used to describe a major personified spirit of evil in religion is properly labeling me?" he inquired dryly, aware that his mood was starting to take a turn again, he just didn't know what direction it was going to be. Hopefully not the one Ratchet had termed "weepy femme- mood". Speaking of which, he still had to get back at the chartreuse medic for that one…

Jazz sensed his carrying mate's mood was going to take a dive into slagged off or wounded, so he clarified. "Ah prefer the definition ´energetic, mischievous, daring and clever person`."

Prowl perked up at that, doorwings fluttering at his mate's compliment. "So, would you like to help your energetic, mischievous, daring and clever mate with a prank?" The tactician's voice was a low croon that had Jazz as excited as the prospect of pulling a prank with his mate. Mood swing averted, the silver Solstice grinned in anticipation.

He was just about to answer, when there was a knock at the door and the Prime's deep voice asked for permission to enter. The blue, flame detailed mech did so ever since he had once walked in on a rather intimate encounter between them…

On the spur of the moment, Prowl sent a suggestion over their bond, one to which Jazz giddily agreed. Poor Prime…

XXXXX

When Optimus entered to ask Jazz about some mission reports- the TIC had to deal with his mate's workload now that the carrying SIC was officially off duty- the sight that greeted him made him reboot his optics not once but twice. It was like stepping into an alternate reality, and a highly disturbing one at that.

Because there was Prowl perched on Jazz's desk in a suspiciously seductive manner, doorwings fluttering gently and his full lips in a luscious pout, long legs crossed and dangling down. Behind the desk and its towers of datapads sat a scowling Jazz, trying to concentrate on working, his posture ramrod straight, giving of a no-nonsense business air.

"Those pads don't do themselves, as ya very well know, Prowl, so please let me work." Jazz's posture was perfectly stiff, as he acknowledged his leader's entry with a short nod and a "Good evening, sir", placing one pad in the done pile and picking up another.

"Aw, come on Jazzy, they can wait for a couple of hours while you come to the rec room with me." Prowl leaned closer to Jazz, almost directly in front of the saboteur now, preventing him from working on the new pad. Optimus couldn't stop his left optic from twitching. The ever attentive and respectful Prowl hadn't even looked at him yet, just waved in an eerily Jazz-like manner.

"A couple o' hours delay could prove crucial for the effectiveness of those battle plans Ah have ta take care of. An' call me Jazz, please." Absentmindedly Jazz curtly waved a servo in Prowl's face in an attempt to get him to back off. The scene got more bizarre by the minute.

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Jazzy, and loosen up some. You have been cooped up in this dusty, dreary office for hours now…" Was it just Optimus or had Prowl whined? Prowl? The Prime was almost willing to believe that he was still in recharge, but a discreet pinch of a sensitive wire and the following pain convinced him otherwise. This, whatever it was, was really happening.

"And Ah'll be here longer, tha more ya distract me, Prowl. So please get off of ma desk, so Ah can work properly." The TIC even pointed in the direction of the door, signaling to Prowl to leave already. Poor Optimus could feel his processors straining to make sense of this bizarre event. Was there something wrong with his officers?

"I haven't even started to distract you. Do you want to get out of your office by yourself, or do I have to make you?" And now Prowl even started purring. It was almost too much for the poor Autobot leader to handle, watching his senior officers, who had apparently decided to completely switch personalities in the last couple of hours.

"Ah already said, I need to do those datapads…" He had never heard Jazz sound so irritable and … well Prowl-like.

In response Prowl actually sprawled on top of the table in a pose more suited to the centerfold of a certain kind of magazine, his voice dropping to a sultry purr. "Why don't you do me instead?"

That was the last straw. Sparks flew from the Prime's helm while his optics turned a blue usually associated with what the humans called a bluescreen, signifying a processor meltdown. Optimus Prime, the calm and unflappable leader of the Autobot Army, was pulling a Prowl, complete with the locked up frame and the resounding crash of a Cybertronian body hitting the floor.

Both mates looked at the downed frame of their leader and friend, highly pleased with their performance, until one of them said: "Look, we broke Prime!"

XXXXX

"So he came into your office and just crashed on the spot? You expect me to belief you and your crazy mate had nothing to do with it?" The eye-blindingly chartreuse medic was waving one of his trusty wrenches in the silver saboteur's faceplates, since his programming wouldn't allow him to do so with the also present tactician.

"We were just bantering a little when he came in." Prowl calmly explained, neglecting to mention their switching roles. He had other plans for Ratchet.

Ratchet snorted in disbelief. "Like the time he walked in on the two of you in your office?"

"Just some verbal sparring, Ratch-mech." Jazz snickered. "Poor Prime." Silver servos patted the still offline Prime`s helm. The red and blue mech had been brought to medbay with the help of Ironhide who had come racing the moment he had heard the loud crash and was now being worked on by a grumbling Ratchet.

"Yeah, right." Rummaging around in one of the cupboards he finally found what he was looking for and held out a greenish glowing cube of energon towards the carrying Praxian, who eyed it with obvious distaste. "Grab this, down it now where I can see you so I can make sure you actually drink it and then get the pit out of my medbay."

Gingerly holding the cube between two of his clawed fingers Prowl forced himself to drink it, knowing the sparkling needed the nutrients in the sickly looking and vile tasting medical grade energon. That didn't mean he had to like it though. He actually gagged when he had swallowed it all. The first time he had to drink it, Ratchet had cheerfully handed him the cube with the words "Don't worry, it doesn't even look or smell half as bad as it tastes."

"Happy?" The doorwinger growled at the medic.

"Yep." Ratchet pointed at Jazz, who had watched the proceedings silently, watching the medic dig his own grave as the humans said, all the while sending soothing pulses to his mate and the promise of some sweet energon goodies later to get rid of the vile taste. "Take you mate out of here, before he decides to go crazy on me."

Poorly hidden snickers from the silver saboteur accompanied their leave, while Ratchet returned his attention to getting the Prime back online. The process was accompanied by the occasional curse and some loud clanking and crashing of various metal parts, a steady litany of mutters and grumbles being part of it.

Which was why he never realized what happened to his doors…

XXXXX

"Now that you're back among the living, will you tell me what those two glitches did to make you crash?"

Optimus flinched, he should have known Ratchet would know the minute he was awake again. Why was he here again? Oh, yes he had crashed, because his two most senior officers had switched personalities on him. Now that he could think clearly again he realized the two had pranked him.

Chuckling to himself, he reviewed what had happened and now saw the humor in it. Admitting to himself that he would have laughed himself silly, had Prowl and Jazz done that to another bot the Prime gave in to laughter.

A bang to the helm stopped him, the wrench hitting its intended target. "Quit laughing and spill already!"

"The happy couple played a prank on me." He muttered, rubbing the sore spot on his blue helm.

"Tell me something I don't know."As was his habit the medic wandered around the medbay randomly fiddling with his instruments and cleaning things up, giving his hands something to do while he talked. "The smug look on Prowl's face was enough to clue me in. So what did they do."

"They acted like they switched personalities." At Ratchet's raised optic ridges, the Prime decided to elaborate. "Jazz was sitting at the desk working on datapads, while Prowl was… well perching on it, trying to distract him." Deciding words weren't enough, Optimus located the relevant feed of the security cameras the recently arrived Red Alert had installed everywhere and simply showed the medic.

The medic watched it and proceeded to crack up laughing, leaning back to lean on the medbay doors as was his habit. He failed to notice the suddenly wide optics of his Prime, heard to late the shouted warning "Don't lean on the doors.".

He already did… and was promptly dumped on the floor outside the medbay, looking up at the ceiling and wondering how in the pit he got there. His gaze was drawn in by a swinging movement. Once his optics had homed in on it, he stopped in the middle of getting up and stared.

Where once his steel medbay doors had been, perfectly normal doors operated by mechanical door panels, there now was a pair of wooden swinging doors, covering a third of the entrance, waist high for middle sized mechs. Humans and minibots could have walked underneath them, albeit the latter would have to duck. They were beautifully carved examples of craftsmanship, the Cybertronian glyphs on the top naming Ratchet as their owner. They also looked like the swinging doors to a saloon in the old Western movies.

Sputtering Ratchet pointed at them, to surprised to say anything coherent, while Prime stepped through them and cautiously poked them, causing them to swing again, sqeaking slightly.

Smothered laughter drew their attention further down the hall, where the red-chevroned helm of Prowl and the visored helm of Jazz were poking around one of the corners, both grinning and snickering. When they realized that their cover was blown they both transformed and sped away laughing, swiftly followed by a roundly cursing Ratchet who promised to "reformat you both into oversized slagging toasters, once I get my hands on you two fraggers! No one touches my medbay doors!"

As he watched the medic tear after the disappearing couple, sirens wailing, Optimus couldn't help but smile. Undisciplined, crazy and chaotic, even dysfunctional his troops had been called, but to be honest, he wouldn't want them any other way. After all, with all their quirks and idiosyncrasies, they really put the fun in dysfunctional.

Maybe The End, Maybe Not…

So, tell me what you think?


	6. Chapter 6

War Is But A Game

Author: Thalanee

Prompt: Online Gaming

Verse: AU

Word Count: 1900 words

Rating: pg13

Warnings: character death (of a sort anyway), crack, kissing

Disclaimer: Transformers don't belong to me, I only wish they did.

Summary: The war has been going on for a long time, but what is the story behind it? (I suck at summaries)

Author's Notes: I don't know if this has been done before, so I'm just going to try it out. Have I already mentioned that my mind works in twisted ways? XD

And I actually love Starscream, I don't know why, I just do ;P

Breem: about a minute

Jour: hour equivalent (about eight Earth hours)

Cycle: day

Decacycle: week, ten cycles

XXXXX

Jazz cursed to himself.

He knew what he had to do. If he didn't Ratchet and the human boy carrying the Allspark would pay the price for his reluctance and that was unacceptable. He couldn't let that happen. Everything they had done to get to this point in the war would have been for nothing.

So the silver saboteur drew the Decepticon Lord's attention to him, firing at him, clawing at his wiring, when Megatron grabbed him and held him over his head in a firm grasp. "Ya want a piece of meh?" he yelled taunting. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew that had been a bad idea.

"No, I want two!"

Then the world turned black…

And in the quiet corner of a bar a dark silver mech with a glowing azure visor cursed roundly. He had died. Again. Prowl would be so pissed.

When the game "The Great War: Generation 1" had appeared, many Cybertronians had opened an account and started to play as part of one of the two available factions, Autobots or Decepticons. Despite the title of the game, it was actually a pretty benign affair, almost never had a character actually died, most players went on treasure hunts for parts they needed, had competitions with the other side in little fights or simply tried to out-strategize each other.

Another reason the game was so popular was that it included not only the Cybertronian system, but also other planets their race had come into contact with over time, especially a planet called Earth and its human inhabitants they now were in close contact with.

While the majority of the population only played very sparingly, there were other players who used the game as a meeting place, when their friends were away or even at work. Jazz was one such a mech and he had even first met the other half to his spark there. Their first meeting in the real world had resulted in Jazz's most favourite memory: his spontaneous but truly wonderful bonding to Prowl, a Praxian enforcer.

Right now though, Jazz was grumbling into the cube of high grade he had ordered some time age, because he had managed to get himself killed again. Did I say, hardly anyone ever died? That still meant some characters had died, especially since the game had been upgraded and was now called "The Great War: In Search Of The Allspark", which Jazz had been playing after his performance in the bar up until a jour ago…

"Let me guess, you died."

Jazz looked up to see who dared interrupt his moping, but his black mood was at once forgotten when he realized who it was. He grinned broadly, maneuvering so that Prowl, who was in the process of sitting down, ended up sitting in the silver mech's lap and was soon engulfed in a hug.

"I shall take that as a yes." Golden optics twinkled in amusement, even though the face accentuated by the ruby chevron did not betray his emotions. Jazz lovingly hugged the black and white frame with the barely there red and gold highlights closer, pressing a kiss to one of the gorgeous white doorwings.

"Got ripped in half by Megatron!" he boasted proudly.

"That beats the last time." The enforcer countered smugly.

"Certainly beats yours the first time we played." Jazz continued on despite the golden optics narrowed at him. "Tha first mechs ever ta die in the game, because they managed ta crash their shuttle. 'Hide's still sore about it!"

"We didn't crash the shuttle." Prowl primly pointed out. "The game matrix glitched and generated some npc-Cons who shot us in the backs."

"So ya say." Jazz pressed a loving kiss to Prowl's nose. He just couldn't help himself. Kissing Prowl was one of his favourite pastimes. Besides the enforcer never complained. "The other's say when they're gonna meet us?"

"Ironhide called to excuse himself, Ratchet and Wheeljack. Wheeljack exploded his lab again, he has assured us the damage is only superficial, but Ratchet wants to look in on him after they're finished. Ironhide will accompany him to make sure our beloved medic will not take out his frustration on Wheeljack in a manner more drastic than usual."

Jazz snorted. "Heh, did we ever find out how 'Jack made things go boom in the game even if they weren't supposed to at all?"

"I have long since stopped to question Wheeljack's strange abilities. Starscream, Megatron and Orion will be joining us as soon as they have finished their latest game, Sunstreaker has locked himself in his studio to finish his latest masterpiece and Sideswipe will join him later. So it will only be us officers." Prowl didn't notice but he had started to purr as a result of his bonded's ministrations, doorwings flapping lazily and nuzzling the silver mech's neck with his nose.

Jazz couldn't help but compare Prowl to the Earth felines called cats: it was hard to get his attention, but if he petted him just the right way Jazz soon found himself with a lapful of purring, strutless Prowl determined to cuddle no matter where they were and what they were doing (surprising for a mech as stoic and controlled as Prowl, but who was Jazz to complain?).

"The two of you have no shame at all, do you?" A smooth, familiar voice interrupted them, as the tall figure of a red, white and blue flier sat down at their table.

"Nope, none at all." Jazz sounded very pleased while answering Starscream's question. The brilliant scientist was one of their closest friends. They had spent many an evening over highgrade and philosophical and scientific discussions that tended to soon leave Jazz sitting both baffled and amused as he watched Star and Prowl bicker back and forth.

"You are here already? I was under the impression you were going to stay until the end." Prowl cocked his head looking slightly confused. Jazz had to keep himself from kissing Prowl again. In his opinion a confused Prowl was a sexy Prowl… oh, what the pit he thought, kissing Prowl's chevron.

"I got out early."

The pair shared a look. They had heard that phrase before… "Ya died."

"Yes, I did, happy now? I can't believe it, the three of us manage to die regularly, while no one else hardly ever does! Do you know that after you died, both Megs and Orion died and came back to life, because of an Allspark-shard and the matrix of leadership respectively?"

"Being the leader of your faction is bound to have some perks. Mayhap they will both stop complaining now." Prowl shook his head. In every game they had played, Orion and Megatron always ended up as leaders of the opposing factions. Someone here had a twisted sense of humor…

"So how did ya die?" Jazz needled.

Starscream took a sip from his newly arrived cube and muttered something suspiciously sounding like "explosion" and "squishy".

"Death by human?" Jazz shrieked, laughing loudly. "That beats ya death by crashin' ya own shuttle, Sparkles!" The laughing soon turned to a yelp as an empty cube hit his head, getting chucked into that direction (memo: what possessed you to let Starscream and Ratchet meet in the real world?), and the slightly clawed finger of Prowl poking somewhere sensitive.

"Continue in this vein and you won't be getting any tonight."

"Aw, come on, Prowler, Ah didn't mean that."

"Sure you did, and now you gotta pay the price." Starscream interjected. In this manner they bickered back and forth, in better humor once Jazz bribed his way back into his friend's and lover's good graces with a cube and a deep kiss (complete with retching sounds in the background courtesy of the flier).

Soon their attention was drawn by a familiar complaint in an also very familiar voice. "You killed me again! You know, for someone who is supposed to be the leader of the more peace-loving faction, you do that quite often, brother dearest."

"You will never let me live this down, will you, Megatron?" Orion sighed as the two brothers placed themselves on the free chairs next to Jazz and Starscream (Prowl was still on Jazz's lap and made no move to get up).

"Why should I? It's too much fun to tease you."

"I don't understand how I ended up as Prime again, anyway. I created my character as a dockworker, for Primus sake!"

Star had to keep from laughing, as he opened a comm. line to everyone but the still ranting Orion. :: Are we ever going to tell him that Jazz and Soundwave hacked the server and manipulated it so he'll always be Optimus Prime whether he wants it or not?::

:: And ruin all our fun?:: Prowl shot back

::Nope.:: Jazz agreed.

::Even at the danger of sounding like e five vorn old repeating myself, why should we?::

XXTwo jours and several cubes laterXX

"So you heard 'bout that new extension coming up? It's a complete new world, sometime after the Great War, the Cons are still there, but only a small group of bots knows and they have to do their best to stop the Cons while stranded on Earth. Wanna play?" Jazz asked giddily.

"I am somewhat tired of dying all the time."

"Come on, Prowl, I'm constantly dying too and I'm going to play, TC and Warp will too after sitting the last one out."

"Don't make me beg, Sparkles, ya know Ah will."

Prowl threw his mate a look. How the singer even managed to look like a kicked puppy with a visor on was anyone's guess. Sighing, he relented. "Alright, I will."

"So, will the two of us. Won't we, Optimus?"

The look the red and blue Orion shot at his older brother could have killed. "I won't be Prime, this time. I'll start as a repair bot, I think."

"Whatever." Megatron snickered. "You'll always be Prime, I'll always be the Con leader and they," he gestured at the loving couple and the scientist glaring at them, "will always end up dying. That's part of the fun, brother dearest."

"Yeah, it is! Just think, another tragic love story between me an' Prowler." Jazz had odd tastes in entertainment sometimes. Then he blurted out a question he had been meaning to ask since he had managed to die for the fifth time (Prowl had died two times) ever since he started to play. "How come on of us always ends up dead anyway?"

The answer came from every bot at the table besides Jazz and Prowl, perfectly in synch. "So the rest of us don't have to watch the two of you get lovey-dovey all the time."

The End

Author's Notes: Brick me now…

The ending isn't quite right, I feel… tell me what you think ^^


	7. Chapter 7

Not one of my better one's I guess, but I'll post it anyway…

On The Proper Use of Datapads

Author: Thalanee

Prompt: Daring Rescue

Verse: AU- premovie

Word Count: 1600 words

Rating: nc-17 (just to be sure)

Warnings: crack, implied mechxmech, violence

Disclaimer: Not mine…

Summary: Everyone knows how dangerous Ratchet's wrenches are… watch a poor Decepticon spy as he finds out why the same goes for Prowl's datapads.

Author's Notes: Once again I have no idea where this one came from. As crazy as it is, I think it belongs in the same verse as the other ones (Bluestreak as Prowl's creator). *author turns to bunny and speaks* I hereby dub thee the "A World Gone Crazy- verse". All stories thou hast inspired me to write or to write in the future shall henceforth be referred to as belonging to this verse.

I'm not really sure what to think of this one…

XXXXX

Jazz sat perfectly still.

He wasn't going to move while the Decepticon intruder held a gun pointed at his head. Unfortunately the 'Con also knew enough about the proper use of a gun to stay out of the saboteur's reach, so grabbing the gun and assaulting his opponent was out of the question. The risk was too high.

No one else in the room moved, too surprised to act.

Everyone's optics were on their silver saboteur and the Decepticon who seemed on the verge of fritzing himself when he realized just where he actually was. Instead of the quiet vent, where he would have been out of sight and could have listened to what the Autobots were planning the Decepticon spy called Stalker was now standing in the middle of the room. Not strong enough to support his weight for so long, the metal the vent was made of had given in and dropped him in the middle of the officer's meeting, attended by the most feared Autobots: there was the merciless black Weapons Master Ironhide, cannons whirring loudly in the perfectly silent room and aimed at the intruder.

Their chartreuse medic was openly snarling at him. Earlier he had aimed a wrench at the 'Con, but had handed it over when the spy had threatened to shoot the silver saboteur, who sat motionless in his chair, feet still up on the table. Every Decepticon knew about the medic's deadly aim, as sure as the pit he wasn't going to let the chartreuse mech throw one at him.

Their mad inventor watched him with flashing sidebars, having stopped tinkering with whatever he was working on. The suspicious bundle of parts in front of Wheeljack might be a bomb of some kind. Then again if his reputation was in any way based on facts, it didn't even have to be a bomb in order to explode.

The red and white Security Director was twitching away in his seat, blue arcs of electricity spasming between his helm horns. When Stalker had dropped onto the table the mech had begun to screech something about an intruder but soon shut up when the spy's second gun was aimed at him.

The imposing Autobot Leader, sat still in his place at the head of the table, his face concealed by a facemask, intense blue optics narrowed at Stalker. For some reason the Prime's gaze made the Decepticon want to give up his weapons and apologize. He shuddered and looked at the figure to the Prime's right.

Black and white paintjob, red chevron and doorwings clearly identified him as the Autobot SIC. His slightly clawed fingers and golden optics were signs of a mixed heritage and yet the Praxian had chosen the Autobots over the Decepticons. Small loss there, Stalker thought, since the emotionless tactician was considered nothing more than the Prime's personal assistant. Therefore Stalker didn't pay much attention to him.

He should have.

For Prowl was infuriated that a Decepticon would dare threaten his Jazz. Anyone close to Prowl would have known by the way his optics were blazing and doorwings raised up high in a sharp V-form. But the Con didn't know that.

"That is a very bad idea." Even his voice was perfectly flat, no emotion audible in it.

"What, shooting you all? Lord Megatron would be very pleased."

"I highly doubt that, since your Lord has often announced his wish to be the one to kill Optimus Prime. Additionally the likelihood of you accomplishing this is lower than twenty percent. You will be dead before your first shot hits its target. Surrender now and you will live."

Stalker sneered, trying to conceal the fact that he knew Prowl was right. He would most likely die. But even if he only took one of the mechs in the room with him, his name would be remembered forever. And he would start with the saboteur who had thwarted so many of his master's plans. The spy laughed and turned back to the saboteur.

"Foolish Autobots. You cannot stop me. I will finish my mission."

"As you wish."Prowl's voice betrayed nothing of his growing rage, as he idly tapped his chin with a datapad.

Stalker thought the tactician was bluffing. So he didn't think much about it when the doorwinger eyed the spy with a calculating look in his optics and raised the datapad in his right to absently tap his lips with it once again. Stalker was so concentrated on the dangerous saboteur and the Weapons Master that he didn't see the way Prowl's cables tensed, didn't see the slight movement of Prowl's right arm.

The last thing he saw (before he was knocked unconscious) was a datapad flying through the air towards him at lightning speed, filling his field of vision.

They all watched the datapad hit the 'con right in the face with a force so hard, the pad actually left a very large dent in the spy's face- or what would be a large (but not life threatening) dent, once someone took away the pad now stuck in the Con's face with a corner…

They all looked at the downed spy, at their extraordinarily smug tactician, the pad… and the cackling saboteur.

"Nice aim, Prowler."

"You are welcome, Jazz."

"Wait a moment!" Ironhide called, interrupting their chatter, everyknow knew would descend into shameless flirting if they weren't stopped. "How did you even knock him out using a datapad? Scratch that, how did you even come up with the idea of using one like that?" Ironhide blurted out, as baffled as everyone else in the room, while he slapped some stasis cuffs on the unconscious spy's wrists.

"I am sure you recall the incident at the start of the war that prompted me to ask you for fighting lessons?"

"Sure I do. That 'Con assassin got way too close to you, good thing Jazz was there." Ironhide frowned at the memory of entering the tactician's office to find Jazz pinning down a 'Con assassin with his claws to protect a wounded Prowl.

"That is exactly what Jazz thought too. However he wasn't satisfied with the extent of my lessons and his reasoning was perfectly sound. As proficient as I was becoming at handling firearms, the likelihood of my having one at hand at every time or being able to draw it fast enough was slight, since I was mainly occupied in my office. For that reason Jazz started to teach me to disable and if need be kill an opponent with items I was most likely to have at hand, the most prominent of which are datapads."

His audience gaped at him. Everyone recalled instants when they had been called into the SIC's office for some reason or other and entered to see Prowl sitting at his desk. A desk littered with datapads. A desk in an office filled with cabinets full of datapads. It also brought to mind the fact that Prowl was almost never seen without some of his beloved paperwork…

"…You are serious." Prime warily looked at the innocent seeming pads in Prowl's white servos.

"Of course, I am. I do not joke about such matters. Now if you will excuse me, I have to confer with Red Alert about the proper measures that should be taken to prevent an escape." That said, Prowl nodded to Prime and left the room with Red Alert whose security team had arrived to escort the spy to the brig. As soon as the door closed behind them all optics in the room turned to Jazz who was still sitting in his chair, peds up on the conference table.

Silence reigned before Wheeljack finally voiced what they all thought. "So that means every time Prowl is slagged of at us we're looking at a mech who has his servos full of potentially deadly weapons?"

"Yep." Jazz seemed to be strangely pleased about that, especially considering the fact that it was usually the saboteur (and the twins) who stirred the tactician's wrath.

"You like to live dangerously, don't you?" Optimus asked.

"Hey, OP, Ah'm a saboteur, course Ah do."

"But did you have to teach him that? As if having to deal with Ratchet wasn't bad enough!" the black warrior exclaimed, conveniently forgetting that the medic was standing right beside him.

Jazz chuckled. "Prowler promised only ta use his powers for good. Besides Ah only came up with the idea and provided the materials he needed, ya know for reinforcing his favourite pads' frames to make them harder and such. Tha teaching part wasn't my fault." A silver servo pointed at the evilly grinning medic.

When they all just stared at him, jaws almost hitting the floor, he snorted and throwing up his arms, asked pointedly: "Who did you think taught Prowl how to throw like that?"

The End

Here a timeline of all the stories in this verse:

On The Proper Use Of Datapads

Movie-Event: Arrival on Earth

Meeting the Creator

101 Creative Was to Pair Bots Up

The Fine Art Of Pranking

Verse-Event: Prowl and Jazz bond

One Plus One Makes Three

Revenge Is Sweet


	8. Chapter 8

The Meaning of a Kiss

Author: Thalanee

December- Challenge 2011, Prompt: Eskimo Kisses

Verse: Movie-AU

Word Count: 3800 words

Warnings: might give you toothache from the sweetness ;)

Rating: pg-13

Disclaimer: How I wish they were mine, but they're not… maybe I'll get them for Christmas?

Summary: There's more than one way of kissing as Prowl is about to find out.

Author's Notes: In collaboration with **vejiraziel**** , **who volunteered to draw a picture (here's the link, just remove the empty spaces: http:/ plantman-exe. deviantart. com/ art /TF-Slash-PxJ -Eskimo-Kiss- 277138857)

This came to me while I was listening to Christmas songs, waiting for the bus. People started staring when I was suddenly grinning and aaww-ing to myself XD Bunnies pick the strangest times to pounce on me!

This turned out a lot longer than I was planning, too! ;P

XXXXX

The accursed things were everywhere.

In every corner, in every nook and cranny in the NEST base, every doorway whether it was made for humans or mechs, and even some highly unexpected places outside someone had placed the innocent seeming green plants with the white berries called _Phoradendron serotinum_, otherwise known as mistletoe. Some nefarious prankster had even had the ball bearings to place one such piece of greenery above Prowl's own office door!

At first the Autobot SIC had not minded the presence of the plant, knowing it to be part of the traditional decoration used for this particular human holiday, truth be told he had not really registered it at first. Until he had discovered the true reason there were so many branches of mistletoe around. Prowl had been appalled when he had found himself under the plant with Sideswipe by chance and was told what would be required.

To the silver swordsmech's surprise and the amusement of everyone else, Sideswipe found himself kissing a datapad when he tried to stay true to tradition and kiss the tactician. Afterward Prowl had gotten away to his office, where he was still… oh well, there was no way to deny it, he _was_ hiding from the other bots. Rubbing his ruby chevron to alleviate the headache, he still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea how something as intimate and important as a kiss could be treated so callously.

In the traditions of Praxus, his home, a kiss was something only shared between bots who were courting and wanted to take the next step in their relationship. Doorwings twitching in the silence of his office, he sighed.

He couldn't really say he fully understood the meaning of Christmas, never mind that he had a slight suspicion that there were quite a number of humans who didn't either, and it was their holiday in the first place, but he did not mind the festive mood. In truth he welcomed it after all that had happened in the war. His processors and spark still stalled in protest at the thought that Jazz had actually died, though he had come back, through a combination of Allspark energy, the matrix's wisdom, Ratchet's skills and sheer dumb luck.

The doorwinger relished the thought of having happy Autobots around, of being close to his friends during the holidays, but he absolutely did not want to be caught underneath one of those plants. Not considering his past experience…

And that was the true reason Prowl was so determined to avoid being caught underneath the plant again.

Prowl had never been kissed before.

And he wanted that first kiss to mean something, not to be part of some holiday entertainment that determined whom would be kissed by whom based on pure chance.

So caught up in his musings he was, that he didn't notice Jazz enter his office until the mech stood directly in front of his desk.

He looked up to see his best friend- and if he was perfectly honest about it romantic interest (not that he would admit that out loud, at least not yet) - twirling one of those mistletoe branches in his silver servo, grinning mischievously. The Praxian couldn't help the slight feeling of betrayal welling up in his spark. Prowl knew that Jazz most likely didn't know about those traditions and probably didn't mean anything by it, but still… This was one of the rare instances where he didn't find any comfort in logic.

Sitting up perfectly straight, he tried to ignore the glint in Jazz's visor and eyed the plant wearily. Doorwings rose almost imperceptively, before Prowl got himself under control again and stilled the unconscious movement.

"Hey there, Prowler, enjoying the festive atmosphere?" There was a roguish quality to the grin on those silver face plates.

"I would enjoy it more, if random mecha stopped trying to trap me underneath one of those." The bitterness in his tone surprised even himself. Hoping that Jazz hadn't noticed it, he stopped himself from continuing, but it was too late. Jazz had heard it.

"Ya alright, Prowler?" Now that Jazz looked more closely, he could see how tense the black and white was, how high he held those white wings Jazz adored so much. That couldn't be comfortable. Fighting down the urge to pet those fascinating appendages, the saboteur fixed his gaze on Prowl.

"I'm fine, Jazz." Vaguely waving a white servo, he tried to appear as in control as possible. He failed. Miserably.

"Yeah, right," the saboteur snorted, "fine is just code for nothing's alright, 'specially when ya use that tone." Planting himself in front of Prowl's desk, hands on his hips, he was determined to find out what was wrong and fix it.

"Let it rest, please." The last thing he needed was Jazz finding out that Prowl was practically a virgin in all things concerning love. The silver mech would never let him live it down! What was more important though, was that he didn't want to appear less in Jazz's eyes.

"No way, mech. Something's botherin' ya, an' Ah ain't gonna stand by and watch. Ya're ma friend!" Silver servos were placed in the middle of the desk and Jazz leaned in close… close enough to kiss. _Oh no, bad Jazz, don't go there_, the saboteur reprimanded himself. Time to pull out the big guns… "Ya tell me what's so bad or Ah swear, Ah'll sic Blue on ya."

Golden optics widened slightly in indignation. "You would not!" Seeing the smug smirk on Jazz's face, he huffed. "Oh, you would. Fine."

"Ah knew ya'd see things ma way eventually," Jazz drawled, ignoring the raised optic ridge and the Look aimed his way. He'd had lots of practice doing that over the vorns.

"I just… feel uncomfortable with the idea of kissing random mechs, just because I find myself standing underneath a piece of greenery with them. And I certainly do not appreciate certain bots continued attempts to place me underneath one of them."

"Sure, some of the bots are overdoing it a little, but they don't mean anythin' bad by it."

"Be that as it may, but even you have to admit, that some of them have turned this into a contest. I do not wish to be part of this."

"Come on, Prowler, it ain't that bad." Jazz laughed, trying to lighten his friend's somber mood. "The way ya act, I'd almost think ya've never been kissed before."

The embarrassed silence that greeted his jest pulled him up short. Carefully he eyed the clearly uncomfortable Praxian, who was shifting nervously, his arms crossed over ruby chestplates. White doorwings were twitching and Prowl was looking anywhere but at him. For Primus sake, Prowl was acting like a youngling with his first crush!

That thought stalled him for a moment, then it slowly began to dawn on Jazz what Prowl's behavior meant…

"Ya act as if ya've never been kissed before," he said offhand, as if trying to joke, just to see if Prowl's reaction confirmed his theory.

And it did. Doorwings were twitching violently and the tactician had even started squirming. He looked mortified. And if those clues weren't enough there was also the fact that Prowl was blushing a shade of crimson that almost put his chevron to shame.

"H-how… I mean, what makes you think… oh bother." As soon as he had spoken, Prowl knew that Jazz had seen through him.

"Ya've really never been kissed?" The silver saboteur couldn't help but stare at his beautiful friend in astonishment. It was hard to believe that no one had ever shown enough interest in the doorwinger to kiss him. Pit, Jazz himself had been and still was more than interested himself! He'd just always thought that Prowl wasn't interested at all, so he'd kept silent, instead of being rejected outright.

If it was possible, Prowl's blush became even deeper. Jazz had to suppress the urge to coo at the adorable sight of the usually stoic Prowl acting like that. "A kiss is something very serious in Praxian culture." The tactician finally mumbled. "When we offer that privilege to a prospective lover it is indicative of our wish to make the relationship permanent. As such it is only offered if we are sure that we wish the relationship to last, it is meant as a promise, not as serious as agreeing to bond, but still not to be taken lightly. In short, it means we are offering our lives, our sparks." He hesitated, then continued. "There has never been anyone I wished to bind myself to in such a manner."

Jazz could hardly believe his own audios. "No one at all?"

Prowl squirmed a little. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this one completely. Damn Jazz and his ability to perfectly read mechs' behavior… "Well, there is one mech, but he has never displayed a sign of being interested and I was reluctant to broach the subject."

A hot wave of jealousy washed over him, before he knew it. Imagining his Prowl with someone else was just plain wrong. Wait a moment…

His Prowl? Where had that thought come from? Prowl was a free mech and no one's property. Yet, the more he mulled it over, the more right it sounded. His Prowl. Not as in Prowl belonging _to_ him, but belonging _with_ him. _His _Prowl… Maybe he should court the Praxian after all. There was just one little detail to take care of before.

"Anyone Ah know?"

One corner of Prowl's lips curved upward in a little half- smile. "You could say that."

That cryptic reply didn't really help much. Frowning Jazz decided to dig deeper, so he could later take care of the competition, Jazz's darker side proposed before he could stop the idea. "Come on, Prowler, ya know ya can tell me anything. Besides ah have ta know, so Ah can turn him into spare parts if he hurts ya!"

Prowl's lips twitched as he imagined a growling Jazz in a knot on the floor trying to fight himself, chewing on his own foot. Wherever had that image come from? "I imagine that would turn out to be rather difficult if not impossible." He replied dryly, his face perfectly straight.

"What, ya think Ah'm no match for them?" Jazz joked, listing all the mechs who would be able to hold their own against him in a fight. It was rather short and only made up of Optimus Prime, Ironhide and the twins… Somehow the images seemed just plain wrong. Besides Jazz was getting the distinct feeling he was missing something obvious.

Meanwhile Prowl was busy scrounging up every ounce of courage he possessed. He had wanted to tell Jazz about his feelings ever since he had heard about Jazz's death and return to life, knowing the saboteur might not be so lucky again, but every time he had attempted to approach the handsome silver mech, he had found himself hiding or turning away in the last minute. Frustrated with his own cowardice, he decided it would be now or never.

Opening his mouth he tried to say it, but found that his voice had decided to take an impromptu vacation somewhere far away and it didn't seem as if it had any intention of coming back soon. The expectant and somewhat amused look Jazz gave him when Prowl repeated the procedure several times didn't help at all…

He had defeated Starscream and Shockwave in battle, had held his own against Soundwave and even faced Megatron and he hadn't felt this nervous. How difficult could it be to say a single word?

"You." Oh Primus, that hadn't been his voice, had it? He had sounded… squeaky. Primus help him.

"'Scuse me?" Jazz stared at the black and white dumbstruck, wondering if he had heard right.

"It… It's you." Prowl stammered. Somehow in his mind the scene had played out a lot less embarrassing. Twisting his servos in his lap, he stared at the silver servos still placed on the surface of his desk, so he didn't have to see the look on Jazz's face.

Had he done so, he would have seen the happy-silly grin sprout on Jazz's face as he realized what the doorwinger was saying. Right now, Jazz felt as if he could lift all of Cybertron with ease, felt like running through the base and telling everyone he met that Prowl was his now, felt like yipping and laughing and dancing and singing! Best. Christmas. Ever!

But first things first…

Prowl flinched when the silver servos disappeared and he heard Jazz step away from the desk, but before he knew what had happened, strong arms had wrapped around his slim waist and he was lifted out of his chair and twirled around the room in Jazz's arms. Did that mean…?

"Love ya too, Sweetspark." Jazz announced, holding Prowl close, who in turn allowed a smile to appear on his face, content with being held for a while, before he stepped back.

"So… what happens now?" the doorwinger asked, unsure how to proceed, absently drawing invisible lines on Jazz's chassis, the movement doing wonderful things to the saboteur's spark.

"Let's take our time an' see what happens. Now that Ah got ya Ah ain't gonna let ya get away evah again!"

XX A year later, Christmas Eve XX

Jazz skipped his way to Prowl's office, whistling and humming to himself.

Today it would be exactly an earth year since he and Prowl had officially become an item, as the human saying went, and Jazz had never been so ecstatically happy as in that year.

They had taken things slowly, even so the transition from being friends to being lovers had felt so right, so natural even though they had yet to do more than hold hands or cuddling… when Prowl had once given Jazz a simple peck on the cheek, the saboteur had felt like he could fly!

He was content to wait until Prowl was ready. And until then he was going to enjoy every single step leading them toward that kiss. Besides a human year was only the blink of an eye in comparison to a Cybertronian year. In their own measure of time he and Prowl had been a couple for a short time.

The door to Prowl's office opened for him automatically, letting him through even when everyone else was banned from entering, a thought that gave the silver Solstice a warm glow.

As did the sight that greeted him when he entered the room. The police racer was sitting at his desk, working on datapads. White doorwings fluttered when Prowl looked up at Jazz, that tiny smile on his face, the one that was purely reserved for the saboteur.

"Good evening, Jazz." Placing the datapad on the desk he stood to greet the slightly taller mech.

"Heya, Sweetspark, ya ready for the Christmas party?" Jazz hugged the other close, pressing a chaste kiss to the red chevron, eliciting a purr from the Praxian. To his delight he had discovered that when he was in the right mood, Prowl was actually quite… well, cuddly. If those magnificent doorwings were stroked in just the right way it earned Jazz a lapful of relaxed, purring Praxian wanting to snuggle.

"As ready as I ever will be," Prowl answered, pressing a chaste kiss on Jazz's cheek. "Let us join the others, I know everyone has been looking forward to this."

"oh yeah, it's gonna be the greatest party of tha year!" Jazz exclaimed, fairly glowing with anticipation.

Prowl chuckled. "You say that about every party, Jazz."

"Hush ya, that's 'cause every party's supposed ta be the best, an Ah'm gonna make sure this one is too. Ah also asked Blaster not ta turn the volume up ta high, Ah know it bothers your wings."

Touched by his mate's thoughtfulness Prowl took one of Jazz's servos in his own white one. "Then let us go, we should not make the others wait."

Leaving the offices behind they made their way out of the building housing the Autobots' offices and to the hangar where the rec room was located. It was already dark outside and the base was only illuminated by the moon and the colourful lights the humans had hung everywhere, from trees and windows, to lamps and signs, to give their base a festive air.

Snowflakes fell soundlessly from the sky blanketing everything in a fluffy white cloak and making the world seem tranquil and peaceful.

Enjoying the quiet atmosphere, which was only interrupted by the muffled, far away seeming sound of Christmas songs being played in the rec room, they made their way across the little square connecting the different buildings to the main entrance of the rec room.

Suddenly Prowl stopped and looked upward. Jazz's gaze followed and only then did he notice the little plant hanging from the lintel above them, the very same plant that was ultimately the cause for Prowl's confession last year.

Jazz smiled at the memory and was ready to continue on their way, only Prowl had remained standing underneath the mistletoe, staring at it contemplatively.

"What's up, Prowler?" he asked, stepping closer again.

For a moment Prowl hesitated, but then he chose to speak up. "If I remember correctly there is something we are supposed to do after finding ourselves underneath this plant at this particular time of the year."

Blinking his visor, it was Jazz's turn to stare. "Prowler, are ya sure?"

"Yes." No, another part of him said, but Jazz had been so patient with him, and truth be told, he had started wondering what a real kiss would feel like. So on the spur of the moment he decided to offer, but he was already thinking that maybe he shouldn't have. Torn between wanting to be kissed by Jazz and wanting to wait, knowing what such a gesture was supposed to mean he remained silent, not knowing what else to say.

"We've been a couple for an Earth year, Prowler, that ain't much for Cybertronians." Seeing Prowl's doorwings wilt and twitch, even though his face was still perfectly neutral, Jazz clarified. "Ah want ta kiss ya, Sweetspark, especially knowin' what it means, but Ah don't want ya ta regret it, cause ya rushed. Ah'm happy ta wait 'til ya really feel ready." Underneath his visor, Jazz hid a frown. Prowl might claim to be sure, but to anyone fluent in body and doorwing lingo it was obvious that he wasn't. Jazz wouldn't kiss him while he was still that insecure, he would just find another way to show Prowl he meant what he had said. Just when he opened his mouth to say so, he suddenly knew what he could do.

"Prowl?"

"Yes, Jazz?"

"Come here," he coaxed, opening his arms, "lemme hold ya."

The hesitant way Prowl came closer, as if he was fearful of doing something wrong, tugged at Jazz's spark, waking his protective instincts. Wrapping his arms around Prowl's waist, he cuddled the black and white close, gently stroking his back and the white doorwings. Feeling the shivers in the black and white frame against his own he took his time until Prowl was relaxed and golden optics had closed.

Gently he tipped Prowl's head up, silver fingers holding the doorwinger's chin and leaned in closer, azure visor dimming slightly. He touched the tip of his nose against Prowl's, softly nuzzling the adorable appendage with his own.

Feeling the unexpected touch to his nose instead of his lips, golden optics snapped open and met the amused loving gaze of Jazz's visor. All the while the saboteur continued the nuzzling. Oddly enough, it caused a pleasantly warm feeling in Prowl's chassis and he could feel his spark pulsing happily at the contact.

Upon Prowl's questioning gaze the smile turned into a grin and Jazz chuckled. "It's called an Eskimo kiss. Ya like?"

A silvery laugh escaped Prowl. The doorwinger felt he really could get used to these kisses. Slowly he started to return the motion, eliciting a satisfied grin from Jazz. "Yes, I think I do, but I might need another to be sure."

Well, if Prowl wanted more kisses (no matter what kind), who was Jazz to argue?

The End

Bonus scene:

"How long have they been standing there?" Ratchet asked, peeking around the corner along with various mechs and humans, all of them ignoring the snow slowly falling around them in favor of watching the SIC and TIC Eskimo-kissing under the mistletoe they had placed in the entrance to the hall.

"About half an hour," Optimus Prime whispered, secretly pleased that his two officers had finally confessed their feelings to each other. It certainly had taken them long enough.

"Scratch how long they've been here," Sideswipe piped up. "I want to know whether this counts as a kiss or not. Smokey won't pay up before we've decided." The silver swordsmech stood to win a considerable number of cubes of highgrade if this did count as a kiss.

"It's called an Eskimo kiss, so that means it is a kiss right, a kiss doesn't have to be on the lips, and if you count that as a kiss then what about the time Prowl gave Jazz that kiss on the cheek, or the kiss on the servo Jazz gave Prowl yesterday, I mean those are kisses too, right, so they count for the bet too, don't they?" the grey gunner piped up, happy that his mentor had finally found a mech to be with.

"Those don't count, they're one-sided!" Sideswipe declared, his optics never leaving the ridiculously sweet scene. He wouldn't miss a moment of this. After all, when would he ever get blackmail material of this quality again?

The whirr of the security camera overhead indicated that red Alert seemed to think so too.

"But then why do you call them kisses, if they are not, I mean isn't that confusing? Why not call them something else, why use the same word if they're not the same? Humans do that often don't they, do you think they do that on purpose?" The grey gunner scratched his chevron in honest confusion.

And while the Autobots argued on, Jazz and Prowl Eskimo-kissed, oblivious to the outside world.

Really The End Now

P.S.: Tell me what you think?


	9. Chapter 9

My Valentine – Part I: Frozen

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It's A Game – Alternate Version/Human Transformers

Word Count: ca 1700 words

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: For the sake of all electronic equipment around you, do not eat or drink while reading this ;) , implied JazzxProwl and SoundwavexBlaster

Disclaimer: Transformers do not belong to me (though I sure as the pit wish they did)

Summary: No, it couldn't be frozen! Jazz wouldn't stand for it, even if undoing the damage was the last thing he ever did. After all it was all for his Prowl.

Author's Notes: This started out as a story for my It's A Game-Verse, but then it turned into something completely different. This is the first of two and rather Jazz-centric, the second will have both Prowl and Jazz.

I dedicate this to one of my dearest and best friends: kida-bridger. This is for you, I hope you like it. Happy Valentine's!

oOoOoOo

"Normal talking…"

:: Online conversation… ::

oOoOoOo

"Ya gotta help me, man! I'm desperate."

Andrew Waverly, known to the internet community as the infamous Soundwave, held the phone's speaker as far away from his ear as possible to avoid permanent damage to his hearing courtesy of the wails currently issuing forth from the device. "What did you do now?"

The question was fully justified, seeing that this was far from the first time the part-time DJ and full-time hacker had been woken from slumber by the more erratic of his two best friends. Getting a phonecall at – he rolled over under his blanket and put on his glasses to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table – 3:30 am was unusual even for the other's standards.

"Well…," There was a short silence from the other end of the line, before his assailant continued speaking, albeit a little hesitantly. "Remember the time I logged into the game as a zombie ta scare off the newbie?"

Soundwave bit back a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose, dislodging his trademark red-tinted glasses in the process. "How could I forget? It's legendary." It was indeed, even weeks later that stunt was still the talk of the gaming community that had grown around the "Great Wars for Cybertron" online roleplaying game and would have elevated Jasper "Jazz" Adams into the ranks of gamer sainthood if he hadn't been counted among those select few already. Before that fateful evening no one would have thought it was possible to crack the game software to that extent. Sure, there were cheats available to all and sundry, tacitly approved or at least ignored by the developers as long as they weren't overpowered and added to the fun of the game. But Jazz, or "the Meister" as he had insisted on being called ever since then, had taken his efforts to new heights when he cracked the game and resurrected his recently deceased character as a zombie transformer and proceeded to scare the living daylights out of a player who had dared to hit on Jazz's boyfriend Alexander Powell, aka Prowl. "But what does it have to do with you calling me up in the middle of the night to wail at me?"

"They froze ma account!" Affront dripped from every syllable when Jazz spoke.

Soundwave blinked at the ceiling. "Say what?"

"Ma account's been frozen, I can't log into the game anymore!"

Once again Soundwave removed the phone from the vicinity of his ear to stare at it in a mixture of befuddlement and irritation, before bringing it back up to its previous position to ask the obvious question. "Didn't you hack it?"

"Duh, that was the first thing I tried." If the sound of frantic typing in the background – never mind the past experience of years of friendship with the enigma that was Jazz - was any indication he wasn't done trying yet.

"But?"

"It didn't work. All the backdoors I snuck into the code are gone, completely erased or altered ta the point that they're useless ta me." The typing continued, now interspersed with the odd curse now and then. Was that the soundtrack of Mission Impossible playing on repeat in the background?

"And just what do you think I'm supposed to be able to do about this?" Please do not let it involve anything that has to do with getting up and leaving the bed… "Besides you're good, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to get around the lock in a couple of days and unfreeze your account yourself." It was a valid point, Soundwave thought, idly stroking his black cat who had taken the opportunity to make herself comfortable on his stomach, obviously thinking that if her human was awake, he might as well pet her.

"Of course I could, but that ain't tha point, I need ta get in today!" Now Jazz really sounded desperate. What about the game could possibly be that urgent? Only one way to find out.

"…Dare I ask why?"

"…Online date with Prowler." Soundwave didn't even need to sit across from Jazz to know he was sporting a ridiculously sappy grin right then.

If the hacker had been sitting at his desk, this was where he would have introduced his forehead to his keypad. On the other hand, could it really still be called an introduction when the two already were so well acquainted thanks to Jazz? So he settled for thunking his head against the pillow. It just wasn't the same, though. "Isn't he going to be back from his trip to Los Angeles tomorrow anyway? What was it he was doing there? A seminar on blood… something?"

"Blood spatter interpretation at crime scenes. And yeah, he's gonna be back in two days but that ain't the point. Don't ya know what day it is tomorrow?" A short pause. "Today."

Soundwave wracked his brain for an acceptable answer, but without several gallons of his favourite coffee there was just no way he could come up with anything other than "Uhn…"

"It's Valentine's Day!" Did Jazz just squeal? "Since we can't be together physically we promised each other ta take a couple of hours just for ourselves ta meet up in the game at least and have an online date if we can't have the real thing. I already got the perfect plan but I need to set up loads of stuff if I wanna be ready in time by this evening. Please, my main man, I'm desperate here! I'll beg if I have to!"

Soundwave sighed. If Jazz had given him any other reason he would have hung up on him, but this… this could actually be called a worthy cause. In all the years they had known each other Jazz had never been as happy as he had been with the New Yorker detective he had met one night on Halloween. When Jazz had first started gushing about his new romantic interest Soundwave had feared it would end in smoke as all his fellow DJ's previous attempts at a romantic relationship had. Especially considering the fact that Prowl had arrested Jazz for drunkenly jumping at random people in Central Part to scare them…

But the Prowl had been good for Jazz, never mind the fact that the two were one of _those_ couples. The closet romantic in Soundwave was already relaying orders to the rest of him and he found himself standing up and moving to his computer before he had consciously formed a decision, much to the displeasure of his cat who disappeared from the room with a reproachful look at her silly human. "OK, let's do this."

oOoOoOo

Several hours, gallons of energy drinks and coffee, sweets, energy bars and loud heroic and sneaky music courtesy of Jazz later saw both hackers logged into the game under their accounts, Jazz's account finally unfrozen and his silver Autobot self doing a happy dance while Soundwave's equally silver, yet much taller Decepticon character watched and waited for him to finish. He got his wish when the Solstice tackled him in a full body hug. Soundwave simply patted him on the back – after looking around and checking that no one was watching them, they both had a reputation to maintain in their respective factions after all.

:: Thank ya, man, ya're the best! :: The silver saboteur hugged the Decepticon one last time before jumping back to the ground, rubbing his servos together in an obvious show of glee, a gleam in his blue visor.

:: Jazz: Welcome. Query: plans? ::

:: No way I'm gonna tell ya, man. If I did it wouldn't be a surprise anymore :: True to form Jazz stuck out his glossa, which of course didn't faze the other in the slightest.

The red visor flashed once, before the Decepticon nodded. :: Acknowledged. Query: Next meeting?::

:: Today's pretty busy, gonna have ta set up the date, spend the evening with Prowler. I also have it on good authority that there's a certain someone ya're gonna spend today with, ya dog. Give Blaster my best when ya see him. :: Jazz megawatt grin looked eerily similar to the one he wore in real life.

:: Affirmative. ::

Soundwave was about to log out and get a couple of hours more sleep in when he noticed the intent way the other was starting at him in via his avatar, as if trying to figure something out. During the short moment of inattention the saboteur had actually climbed the Decepticon TIC's frame and had his visor practically glued to other's faceplates.

:: Query: Reason for stare?::

:: Ya know, I never kind of asked before… but why do ya talk like that in the game when you can actually outdo Screamer and Prowler in talking like a Classical Age novel personified? It has ta do with your characters background, doesn't it? ::

:: Jazz: Serious about inquiry? ::

:: …Yeah. :: Soundwave could practically feel the other's plating twitch in anticipation of his answer, so he drew the torture out for as long as he could.

:: Reason: Soundwave too lazy to type.

The look on Jazz's face was priceless.

oOoOoOo

Author's Note II: As you can see (or at least I hope you did), the gaming technology in this universe is far more advanced than it is in ours.

Cookies to anyone who can name two of my other stories I alluded to in this one ;)

It's a slow start, but the second part will be livelier, and it will also have Prowl in it. So, let me know what you think. ^^


End file.
